


I Was Waiting For You (And I Didn't Know)

by neoladyapollonia



Series: Finding Each Other May Be All We Need [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Pre-Slash, True Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:12:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5439623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoladyapollonia/pseuds/neoladyapollonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter finds a boy in the woods. He has no idea this will shape his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Was Waiting For You (And I Didn't Know)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Malapropian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malapropian/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or any of these characters. They belong to Jeff Davis & some other people.
> 
> I also stopped watched at the beginning of season 4 because it just got stupid and I'm not THAT much of a masochist.
> 
> Special thanks to the following for helping me beta & tweak: LadyKnightKeladry, Malaproprian, xgreenjellybeanx, & Fin.
> 
> Yes, I made Mala help with their own gift...

Peter hummed as he dragged Justin deeper into the heart of the forest. The younger werewolf had struggled at first when Peter had grabbed him and covered his mouth with his hand, but Justin had stopped trying to get away pretty quickly once Peter had sunk his claws in, the tip of his pointer finger tapping against the edge of his eye socket. If this young whelp had been worth anything, Peter wouldn't have been able to sneak up on him so easily, but then again, if he'd been worth anything, he wouldn't have been attempting to stalk Laura with ill intent either.

Peter took his position as Talia's right hand very seriously and this naturally extended to his sister's offspring. Peter wasn’t what anyone would necessarily call a ‘good person’, but as an enforcer, that wasn’t part of his job description. So he recognized others cut from the same cloth, and Justin was close enough that Peter knew better than to trust him. His sister, however, was another matter altogether.

Talia had invited Justin down from one of the Seattle area packs to spend the summer in Beacon Hills. She had been friends with the brat’s mother and was hoping she could arrange for a marriage alliance with Laura as her bargaining chip. Justin was from a pretty powerful pack, and bringing him into the Hale pack would only help their status in Talia’s eyes. The fact that he was tall with an athletic build, dark, shaggy hair and bright green eyes didn't hurt either. Laura thought he was perfect. 

Peter wasn’t so easily fooled. Justin was a predator, and it had nothing to do with him being a werewolf.

He paused and tilted his head as he stretched his senses. They were far enough away now from the main house that there shouldn’t be anyone coming to investigate.

He slammed Justin against the nearest tree, not releasing his grip on the younger werewolf’s face, holding him so they were eye level and grinned. “Do you know why I brought you out here?”

Justin shook his head in the negative.

“I brought you out here so I could tell you how this is going to go. You’re going to go back home, tell your mother that Laura is a lovely girl and will make a strong Alpha one day, but she’s just not the girl for you, and then you will never come near my pack again. Do you understand?”

Justin nodded behind Peter's hand, the sound of his heart pounding clear in the older wolf’s ears.

Peter slid his hand away from Justin’s mouth, letting his claws catch on skin, splitting it easily. Justin touched the wounds, wincing, before running off into the trees. Peter turned and began walking back towards the main house.

A couple of minutes later, when Justin erupted from the trees at his back, Peter smirked.

He turned and allowed the younger wolf to impale himself on his claws. “So predictable. I’m almost disappointed.” He flexed his fingers and turned his hand, shredding the flesh with the motion. Justin dug his own claws into Peter’s arms, frantically clawing as he howled. Peter didn’t even flinch. “But now I just have an excuse to do what I wanted to anyway.”

He used his grip on Justin’s belly to throw him into a tree, bones and bark snapping upon impact. He leaped on the prone body, digging into the heaving chest and getting a scream for his efforts. “I was going to just let you go despite what you had been planning because that is what my sister would have wanted me to do. It would have been the diplomatic thing to do, but that’s her job, not mine. My job is to make sure you never have the opportunity to hurt my pack.” His fingers brushed rib, and he grinned. “And there is one very easy way to do that. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to take my time.” 

Justin began to cry, sobs making his body shake. Peter rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up. You had to know your life was going to end like this one day, that someday you’d mess up… Then again, you are young. You probably thought you were too clever to get caught.” He sighed. “Fucking teenagers.” He licked his lips and edged his fingers under a rib bone. He flexed his fingers quickly, snapping the bone. Justin howled in pain. Peter pulled his left hand loose and wrapped it around Justin’s throat. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up? People might think someone’s being murdered out here.” His lips twitched up in a brief smile before he pried his right hand out and punched him in the sternum, cracking it. He released his throat, leaning back and waiting for the bones to knit back together. He gave it a couple of minutes, digging his claws into skin as he waited. Then he put his palm on top of where he had broken the rib before and pushed down hard. He grinned at the resulting scream. 

Peter suddenly got the feeling of being watched. He looked to the side and saw a small boy looking at him curiously from behind a tree. How hadn’t he heard him? He hadn’t had his guard down so how had this small child slipped through it? Peter sniffed the air but didn’t detect the sharp, almost sour, scent of fear or of werewolf that he expected from the child, just the bitter tang of sadness and tiny human. Justin’s fear, however, was muddying the air and Peter was filled with disgust for the creature below him. He pulled his fingers free with a squelch of blood and unstraddled the body, standing. He kicked him in the side, hard, hearing another break. 

“I don’t give a damn where you go, just get the fuck out of our territory. If I ever see you again, I’m going to kill you.” He thought about letting the younger werewolf walk away, but realized he didn’t trust Justin wouldn’t go after the kid. “On second thought, I did tell you earlier I was going to kill you and I would hate to be a liar.” He leaned down, extending his claws again and ripping the throat out. 

He tossed Justin’s trachea to the side and tried to shake the clinging bits off of his hand, but it was futile. He looked down and frowned at the blood on his sweater. He pulled it off, using it to wipe the blood from his hands and face before tossing it to the side. He was so glad he had worn an undershirt today, or he’d be a bit cold, even as a werewolf. He started to approach the child, but when he shrank further behind the tree, Peter stopped. He hadn’t spent much time around human children and had honestly expected the child to run away from the sight of a man nearly disemboweling and then killing another man, but maybe he was wrong. He really didn’t want to scare this boy, though he didn’t understand why..

He sat down where he stopped, crossing his legs like he was going to meditate, resting his wrists on his knees, letting his hands hang loose. “My name’s Peter. What’s your name?”

“Mścisław,” he replied in a small voice.

Peter blinked and leaned back a bit. If he weren't a werewolf, he would not have been able to hear the boy. “Wow. I don’t know if I can say that without destroying your beautiful name.”

“You can call me Stiles. It’s what my ma-” the boy’s breath hitched. “What my mama calls me.” 

The sharp scent of salt hit his nose before he saw the tears. The boy reeked of sadness now, and Peter had a feeling he knew what had driven the kid this far into the dark woods.

“Stiles, what are you doing so far out here by yourself? Your mama must be worried.”

At that, the silent tears of before turned into outright sobs, and Peter suddenly had his arms wrapped around a small human. He pulled the boy into his lap and rocked him, letting the tears and snot soak his shirt as he kept crying. 

After a few minutes, the tears tapered off, and he was able to speak. “Mama’s sick. She’s in the hospital, and no one will tell me what’s wrong with her.”

“Well, they might not know what's wrong, sweetling.” He paused in his stroking of Stiles' hair. He didn't normally use endearments like that, but it felt natural to say them to the boy in his arms. “Diagnosing health problems can be difficult even for the experts. What about your dad? Won't he be worried?”

“Daddy's at work. He doesn't know I'm gone,” Stiles answered, voice muffled by the shoulder he'd been crying on.

Peter's brow furrowed in confusion, and he felt anger building at the people who would neglect this boy. “Who is supposed to be watching you?”

“Scott's parents. Scott's my best friend,” he explained. “I really like his mom. She's really nice...” he trailed off. He buried his face in Peter's neck and the werewolf felt a tendril of joy run through him. What was going on? He had only ever had this kind of reaction to family. If anything, a non-pack member being so close to his jugular should have at least bothered him. Instead, it felt completely natural. He brushed it off. He had more important things to worry about right now.

“And Scott's dad?

The fists that had clenched in his shirt squeezed tighter. A few moments passed before he answered. “He's not nice. Mom and Dad think he is, but he's not. Me and Scott don't like being at his house, but Scott doesn't want his mom to be there with him either. He's not bad all the time, just after he drinks 'adult juice'. That's what Miss Melissa calls it, but I'm not stupid. I know what whiskey is. Dad drinks it sometimes, but he never gets like Mister McCall. Mister McCall was drinking today and started yelling at Scott. Miss Melissa told us to go outside and play, so we did. We just decided to go past the backyard. She doesn’t need us to worry about when he’s like that.”

Peter could feel his fangs dropping, and he bit through his lip to keep the snarl at bay. He may have wanted to kill this Mister McCall, but the last thing he wanted to do was scare Stiles. He took a few deep breaths and licked his lips to clean the blood off. They spent the next few minutes in silence as Stiles sniffled and Peter rubbed his back.

“So where’s Scott?”

Stiles leaned back and looked at Peter. “Oh, he wouldn’t go too far into the woods ’cause he’s a scaredy-cat.” He rolled his eyes at his best friend’s cowardice. “He’s always been afraid of the woods, but I never have.” Stiles puffed his chest out proudly. “I’ve always felt safe out here. Nothing’s gonna hurt me out here.”

Peter couldn’t help grinning at his boy’s stupid fearlessness. “Well, as long as I’m here, I promise it’ll stay that way.” He ruffled Stiles’ hair and set him on his feet before standing, holding out his hand. “Well, I think your dad has worried enough. Why don’t we head back to my house and we can call him, let him know that you’re okay.”

Stiles scrunched his nose. “Daddy said never to go anywhere with a stranger…” He stared at Peter for a moment before saying, “But Mama told me to always listen to my heart.” He grabbed the offered hand with a smile.

Peter felt an answering smile take over his face. He tried to stop it and found he couldn’t. He didn’t really mind since the only person around to see it was this boy. “Do you want me to carry you or do you want to walk?” He remembered how obstinate Derek had gotten around this age about being carried because he was ‘a big boy’.

“I can walk,” Stiles told him firmly. “But I’ll let you carry me this time.”

Peter scooped the grinning boy up and began walking. Perched on his hip, Stiles babbled about superheroes and villains nearly the entire trip to Peter’s small house. Peter could have gotten to their destination much faster, but he was enjoying Stiles’ stories about Batman, Captain America, and various other comic book characters. 

“So are you going to be a superhero when you grow up?” Peter asked as they finally reached his house, interrupting Stiles’ enthusiastic recounting of Hawkeye & Black Widow’s villainous beginnings. 

“Nope. I’m going to be a policeman like my daddy,” Stiles answered proudly.

Peter’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Your dad’s a police officer?” He would have thought cops were better at recognizing the signs of domestic violence than normal people. He was surprised the man hadn’t picked up on the symptoms in the McCall household.

Stiles nodded with a great, big smile. “Dad’s a deputy. He's gonna be the sheriff one day."

“Oh, he is, is he? Well, I guess I’ll have to be on my best behavior when he comes to get you, won’t I?”

Stiles shrugged. “I think you should make sure he doesn’t find that guy.”

“I’m not worried about that. Your dad won’t be going out there… Unless you tell him about it. Are you going to tell him about it?” Peter looked at the boy on his hip as they walked in the house.

“No! I’m not a snitch! And you’re not a bad guy. You’re really nice. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Peter grinned. “Well, that’s very sweet of you, Stiles. I don’t want you to get in trouble either, so let’s call your dad.”

“Noooo,” Stiles whines. “If you call him, I’m gonna get in trouble!”

“But the longer you’re missing, the more worried he’s going to get, and what about your mom? C’mon, I know you don’t want them to worry about you, right?” Peter tried as he set Stiles down in his kitchen. 

Stiles just clung to his leg instead. He rubbed his face against Peter’s shirt and murmured, “No.”

Peter ran his right hand through Stiles’ hair as he asked him for his last name, looking through the phone book for the Beacon County Sheriff’s Office information line. It only took him a few moments to find the number and dial it. 

“Beacon County Sheriff’s Office, Deputy Alvarado.”

“I need to speak with Deputy Stilinski, please.”

“He’s out on patrol right now, but I can help you.”

“You can help me, Deputy Alvarado, by passing a message along to Deputy Stilinski. My name is Peter Hale. I live at 12746 Preserve Ridge Road and I just found Deputy Stilinski’s son out on the Preserve by himself. He’s supposed to be at the McCall residence, but seeing as they’re too busy having a domestic to notice the children are gone, I thought his father might like to know where he is.”

Peter immediately hung up, not caring about anything the deputy may have had to say. He had a child to entertain.

****************************************************************************************

“Headquarters 127.”

When John realized dispatch wasn’t talking to him, he stopped actively listening and continued toward the nearest fast food place. He tried not to think about why he was buying lunch instead of returning to the station to heat up a homemade meal. Of course, trying not to think about it caused the opposite to happen. It was the first Tuesday of the month, meaning Claudia would have usually cooked a large pot of bigos, John’s favorite, last night. The absence of the stew just reminded him of the fact that his wife was in the hospital.

“-415 D at 862 Pine Creek Drive. Called in by a third party.”

John’s attention was caught by the signal for a domestic disturbance and then it was like ice had been poured on him when he recognized the address as the McCalls’.

“Shit,” he swore as he turned on his light bar and sirens, making sure there was no oncoming traffic before doing a u-turn. He keyed up his radio. “203 Headquarters, put me en route to assist.”

“Negative 203. Give me a 21 public service.”

“What the hell?” he muttered, shutting off his lights and sirens as he pulled out his cell phone and pulled up Alvarado’s contact. 

“Jan, don’t worry. Stiles is safe… I think…” was how the other deputy answered.

“What do you mean, ‘you think’, Keith?” John bit out. His co-worker using his given name instead of the English version made him more nervous than the words he’d spoken.

“Don’t worry. He’s not at the McCalls’.”

John pulled to the side of the road as he yelled, “How am I not going to worry? That’s where he’s supposed to be!”

“Peter Hale called. Apparently, he found your son out on the Preserve and brought him back to his house. It’s 12746 Preserve Ridge Road. He’s the one that called in the domestic.”

John let his head thunk back against the seat. “Shit.” His adrenaline was pumping and his chest was hurting as his heart pounded. “Alright. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He pulled out his notepad and pen. “Give me the address again?” Keith repeated it, giving John time to copy it down. “Thanks” He hung up and keyed up his radio. “203 Headquarters, put me 10-6 doing an extra patrol on Preserve Ridge Road.”

“10-4.”

****************************************************************************************

Peter paused in the book he was reading aloud as he heard a car coming down his driveway.

“Peter! Who’s at the door?” Stiles asked, looking up at him.

“The book is right in front of your face, Stiles. You could just read the next line yourself,” Peter responded, fluffing the boy’s hair.

Stiles jerked his head away. “I could, but you said you were going to read it to me.”

The werewolf laughed. “True, but we should go check and see if your father’s here yet.”

“But you haven’t told me who’s knocking on Bilbo’s door!” Stiles complained.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he answered, closing the book and standing up. Stiles groaned and flopped over into Peter’s vacated spot. Peter laughed, picking the boy up and tickling him as he walked toward the front door.

Peter walked out the front door, Stiles over his shoulder and laughing, just as the deputy stopped his car. “Deputy, I believe this is yours,” Peter greeted as he approached.

“Name’s John,” he introduced as he took his son and hugged him tightly. “Thank you so much, Mr. Hale.”

“Peter. It was my pleasure,” he answered as they shook hands.

“Am I in trouble?” Stiles whispered into his dad’s shoulder.

“Absolutely, but I think we’ll forego any punishment this time. Just don’t run off like that again, okay?” When he got a small nod, John turned toward his unit. “Now let’s get you some lunch and you can hang out at the station.”

“But I don’t wanna go,” Stiles protested.

Peter’s heart clenched. 

“Stiles, you’ve been imposing on this man enough.”

“Was not! He was reading The Hobbit to me!” was the child’s petulant response.

“Stiles, we don’t even know him,” John tried to explain, shooting Peter an apologetic look. Stiles burst into tears, making the werewolf wince.

“Give me just a second, John,” Peter said as he turned and went back into the house. When he came back out, he was carrying The Hobbit. He held it out to the still crying boy, waiting until he took it. “You hold onto that and next time you come back, I’ll read you some more, okay?”

Stiles sniffed a few times before nodding his acceptance of the proposed deal. John smiled and mouthed, “Thank you,” as he turned and headed toward his unit. Stiles waved at Peter from over his dad’s shoulder as he was put in the back seat.

Peter smiled as he returned the gesture. He stood on the porch, watching as the Stilinskis drove away.

****************************************************************************************

Three weeks later, Peter’s world was consumed by fire.

**Author's Note:**

> 415 is the signal for a disturbance. Where I am, you tack a "D" on the end to show it's a domestic disturbance.  
> 21 is short for 10-21, which is phone call. Public service is cell phone as opposed to office phone  
> 10-6 is busy  
> 10-4 is message received  
> I'm using codes and signals for Humboldt County, CA. I do work in law enforcement, but in another state so our signals are different. What I'm using can easily be found online.
> 
> To me, the Sheriff's name is actually Jan (pronounced "yan"), the Polish form of John. He just uses John because people were calling him the girl's name, Jan.


End file.
